


the now-or-never kind

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-05
Updated: 2007-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	the now-or-never kind

Patrick had been through a lot of humans. Not near as much as his mother, who was full-Succubus; way more than his dad, who was full-human, poor thing. As a matter of fact, for an Incubus, he didn't feed as regularly as he could have. He did love music, after all. And was a little on the plump side. There was no way he was going to gorge himself anymore than he needed to orgasmic energy.

Really.

As it was, he didn't think a lot of humans knew that their orgasms had a taste. Like...okay, for example, Greta tasted like powdered sugar. No surprise there, actually. Maja tasted like peaches, go figure that one out; Ryan was Diet Dr. Pepper. Brendon, Big Red chewing gum. Gerard had a faint after-taste of deep-fried chicken, or as close to it as Patrick remembered, and one would think that Mikey could give a great buzz with all that coffee he took in, but this was not so; his was the flavour of Granny Smith apples. Frankie was red wine and...and Ray was interesting. He was wild rice. For real.

Joe was a nice plump veggie-burger. This one never failed to tickle Patrick.

Will was white wine. Travis was Mountain Dew. Amazing yet true.

Right now, right at this minute while he was on his back and his legs wrapped tightly around Pete's waist, his unmistakable taste of licorice was building up around them; Patrick actually opened his mouth, tasting it in the air as Pete thrust and panted in his ear, the feel of Pete sliding and burning hot inside and Pete was coming because the bitter flavour exploded all around them; Patrick pulled it all in, feeling replenished.

"Oh. Oh, _god_ ," Pete was muttering, unaware as Patrick fed. "Shit. Fuck, we should have done that years ago."

"Really," Patrick said blandly, licking his lips and hiding a smirk as Pete pulled out of him slowly. They _had_ been doing that for years. Pete simply didn't recall.

"Really." Pete sat back on Patrick's legs and took a few more bracing breaths. His skin gleamed in the low light of the bedside lamp. "God. You're...you're amazing. No. I have better words...you're the apogee of pleasure."

Patrick grinned and struggled playfully until Pete tumbled back and lay sprawled and sated on his back. He moaned as Patrick crawled over him and sucked lightly on his neck. He did not notice as Patrick ran his thumb over the marks he was making on Pete's bronzed skin and they faded.

"Yeah," Pete murmured. "More, please. Like, now."

"Sure." Patrick's smile was dark against Pete's skin. "Only no." He pressed his roaming thumb on that space between Pete's eyebrows, where some clever humans rightly claimed the third-eye would be, the eye that saw all, the eye that _remembered_. Patrick bit his lip and increased the pressure, feeling Pete give up the memory.

"What?" Pete said sleepily. "Patrick? What?"

"You'll put on your clothes and go back to your bed. You won't remember what happened. Okay, Pete?"

"Okay," Pete agreed dreamily. "Sure, Patrick."

"Go."

He watched silently as Pete did as he was told, moving as if he was floating. Patrick exhaled and lay back against the soft hotel pillows as the door closed. Pete usually held him over for a few weeks.

Four days later, due to this disastrously frantic tour schedule, he was surprised in the middle of fiddling with the laptop to discover that he was _starving_.

*

He'd never had Andy before and for the life of him, Patrick didn't know why. It seemed as if Andy was never in his sphere of consciousness when a hunger-pang struck him and he sent off all those pheromones that pulled humans to him. Now, he could smell only Andy on the lower floor of Pete's house, everyone else traipsed off to a party with Gabe (who tasted like watermelon but that wasn't helping Patrick at this moment).

He slipped down the stairs and peeked around the banister like a naughty child. Over the back of the sofa, he could see the dark waves of Andy's hair, lit in blue strands by the light of the television. He could feel Andy responding to him, sense him waking up from a light doze.

"Patrick?" Andy called, sitting up properly and turning his head. "You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He walked out of the shadows of the staircase and sat beside Andy on the sofa. Andy was looking at him with that interested, speculative look that they all got; and when they all got like that, Patrick got fed. Which was the way it was supposed to be.

"What?" He asked, as innocently as he dared. Andy blinked rapidly at him; he ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends absently. Patrick simply turned his head and tilted it in an angle that showed off the line of his jaw. Travis loved to lick that line. So did Gee.

So did Frankie and the damned list went on. The point was, Patrick knew this game and the best way to play it; and if Andy was going to be such a fucking gentleman like he was now, arms folded across his chest and eyes overly focused on the screen, then Patrick was going to die of malnourishment and that wasn't so good.

He made an effort and turned up the pheromones; Andy's nostrils actually flared. Interesting. _That_ had never happened before. He was hungry and horny and yet Andy was still sitting there resolutely, wriggling his nose and staring at the late-night news; Patrick gave up on the scent thing and went for the direct approach.

"Fuck," he grumbled and climbed over Andy, straddling his lap and grabbing his face. "Just, okay, don't you _feel_ it?"

" _What_?" Andy said, his voice going high-pitched. Patrick just leaned forward and kissed him.

Andy was Cheetos. The flaming hot ones and Patrick paused a little in confusion. Usually, humans didn't taste like exactly how one thought they would; he licked his lips and tried again. Andy's mouth was open beneath his and he was making low moans and writhing his hips a little, grinding up into Patrick. Patrick put aside his slight consternation for just a moment, because he was going to get fed now.

Nice.

He pulled back and of course Andy came forward, hungry nipping kisses and Patrick was hoping that Andy would turn out to be a biter. He liked those, a lot. Once he'd been with a vampire and that had been obscenely fun; but vampires tasted too dusty and Patrick was pretty big on that aspect of the whole thing. Ah...yeah. He _was_ a biter. His hands were insistent on Patrick's neck and collarbone, dry palms stroking against damp skin as he inclined Patrick's head and licked his jaw before giving it a sharp little nibble.

"Oh." Patrick moaned, squirming almost helplessly. "Shit."

"I don't even--"Andy started out feebly, but he was almost totally under Patrick's thrall by now. His pupils were blown almost to overtaking the hazel-grey irises, his skin was flushed and Patrick was pulling off his own t-shirt as fast as he could, because the hunger was throbbing all through him now, under his skin, through his fingers, pulling at Andy's arousal and sipping at it in need. Andy's taste seemed to come at him filtered through something metallic, but they were tumbling off the sofa in a messy tangle of arms and legs and lips and he didn't have time to focus on that strange impression. Patrick had to grab at his jeans and fumble for the slim container of lube before Andy dragged them and his boxers completely off. He pulled at Andy's black shorts, placing one palm flat on Andy's chest to help balance him as he yanked them down and off, flinging them over the television and grabbing onto one of Andy's hands.

Andy's mouth was at his throat as Patrick slicked his fingers on his left hand and guided two of them between his legs. He actually jumped as Andy _bit down_ , stifling a small shriek as Andy's fingers breached him roughly, twisting and searching until Patrick was gasping from a near overload of sensation; when Andy stroked the right place, Patrick literally yanked his fingers out and reached for his cock, rubbing his thumb appreciatively over the head, smearing pre-come all over it. Andy's motions were frenetic, grabbing onto Patrick's legs and hoisting them up around his waist, both of them groaning as Andy pushed and Patrick _pulled_ , those thighs that Will had once extolled as _poetry in white_ (Patrick had laughed until he cried at that one, after he'd made Will forget) flexing around Andy's waist.

Andy was grunting as he set up a furious pace, burning and tunneling and almost pulling out completely before thrusting in again as Patrick arched up against him. He felt Andy's tongue hot against the skin of his neck, Andy's hands bruising his hips and the spicy flavour thundering up around them, slaking Patrick's hunger as Andy came, groaning in his neck as Patrick shuddered underneath him.

Patrick's fingers were stroking unhurriedly on his back, pretending to trace Andy's dragon as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Um," Andy groaned eloquently. Patrick felt full and lazy, like a cat that had been in the cream. His hands moved up and gripped Andy at the nape of his neck, moving his head so that Patrick could get another kiss out of him. As Andy's tongue stroked against his own, he moved his hands up further and pressed between Andy's eyebrows, doing the erasure.

Andy snapped his head back and stared down at him in shock.

"Patrick." Before Patrick could react, his hand were pinned down by the sides of his head and Andy's full weight was pressed into them. Patrick winced and pushed at him, but Andy's grip simply tightened. No way. A human shouldn't be able to hold down a half-demon...unless...

"Patrick, don't tell me you were trying to close that eye. _Tell_ me you weren't."

Holy _shit_ , a demon-slayer. Patrick fought down his panic and bucked up, flinging Andy off him and rolling to one side; he had almost scrambled to the dining room wall when he was tackled and they rolled. He grabbed a handful of Andy's hair and pulled back, smiling grimly at Andy's roar of pain. Friend or not, right now it was survival of the fittest.

Although by the way Andy deftly twisted his hands out of his hair and flipped him over onto his stomach, _he_ was the fittest. Damnit.

"Fuck," he gasped as Andy put him in a chokehold. He got up on his hands and knees and Andy let him, but as soon as he tried to struggle away, Andy's arm pulled tighter around his neck. He went still, trembling in rage and a little fear.

"I can't believe this," Andy said in a small voice, a strange counterpoint to the way he was currently strong-arming Patrick. "I can't fucking... _shit_ , Patrick. Incubus--"

"Fuck you, you of all people should realize I'm only half." Patrick wiggled a bit and Andy rocked back onto his own heels, bringing Patrick to sprawl in his lap. He took hold of one of Patrick’s flailing hands and twisted it around his back.

"Keep still. Give me a reason to hurt you and I will."

Patrick was hoping that somebody would come home soon to find them, even if it was naked on the floor. Maybe it would stop Andy from killing him.

"All this time," Andy mused. "That voice of yours. A boon, right? And half means I can't sense you."

"Slayer," spat Patrick. "Which is why you go AWOL sometimes in the night. Here we thought you were just fucking around. Shit, you think you _know_ people--"

Andy released him suddenly and spun him around until he thumped back-first on the floor. Andy was between his legs again and for all they were glaring at each other, that didn't stop other parts from taking interest in proceedings. Andy's eyes widened down at his.

"Don't tell me this is turning you on. _Again_ ," Andy sneered. "You can feed off me, but you can't make me forget." He twisted his left arm a little and Patrick could have knocked himself in the face, if only Andy hadn't had both his wrists pinned down over his head. There was the sigil of the slayer, runes twisted together for protection and strength on the skin of his inner arm, right near the elbow. Now wonder his taste had been like that. "You _know_ I should kill you. It's part of my credo. I should part your head from your body--"

"Would that be _before_ or _after_ you fuck me again?" Patrick twisted helplessly, grinding their cocks together. He couldn't _believe_ they were this hard again so fast. "I don't hurt anyone, _no-one gets killed_ , so it's unfair--"

"It doesn't matter. I should...you're my friend, I know, I know, but I _really_ have to...oh," he breathed as Patrick angled his hips up and Andy closed his eyes and his grip on Patrick's wrists loosened. Patrick immediately slid a hand in-between their sweating bodies. " _God_. I forgot Incubi were insatiable."

"I'm _not_ ," Patrick insisted in a gasp. " I just... _please_."

Patrick had never had an immediate second time before. He never knew it could last longer, that when his hunger had been satisfied and now he could concentrate on other things, he would notice how Andy didn't taste like Cheetos anymore, but like water, crisp and bracing. This was nice.

Actually, it was pretty fucking great and Andy was such a fantastic biter.

*

Everywhere he turned, Andy would be watching him. He couldn't make a move without those sharp eyes resting on him heavily, until after one rehearsal he grabbed Andy by the upper arm and dragged him into a dim cupboard.

"Look," he hissed. "I told you...I. Don't. Kill. So, you can just stop with the fucking stalking. I haven't drained anyone yet and I don't intend to start."

Andy folded his arms and looked at him. Patrick resisted the urge to squirm and stared defiantly back. A feral smile touched on Andy's thin lips.

"I was actually wondering how often you get hungry," he said low. Patrick blinked. "I know full Incubi feed like, what, once a week? Maybe twice. So...you hungry now?"

"Um. Yes?" Patrick said, actually ravenous for something else completely. "Also, thank you for not murdering your friend."

"No problem," Andy said genially, stripping off that puffy striped vest in a hurry. “Wow, do all demons have this sense of fashion?”

“Pete… _not_ a demon,” Patrick grunted, pulling at Andy’s t-shirt. “And shut up.”

“Turn down the scent thing!” Andy whispered urgently. “Or they’ll…oh, shit,” he groaned, one hand twisted in Patrick’s hair as an urgent knock came on the door. He opened his mouth to yell and Patrick simply covered it with his own. They could hear whomever it was on the outside wander away, muttering.

“I can repel too,” Patrick said smugly as he pulled away and fought with the buttons on Andy's jeans. “Now…about that feeding…”


End file.
